


Subway Leg-Ass-See

by mistrstank (dreamingdarkly), TheKitteh



Series: Moments (With You) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes got moves, Bucky got dem thighs, Down Boys, Flirting, Gay, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Tony Stark, Pepper is so done, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Public eyefucking, Subways, Thighs, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark's Ass, so does tony, so much gay, thirst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 07:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17576870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingdarkly/pseuds/mistrstank, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKitteh/pseuds/TheKitteh
Summary: Tony busies himself fiddling with his phone and tries to ignore yet another person in his space, right up until a rock hard thigh presses lightly against his own leg.Jesus.~x~In which Tony gets tricked into usingpublic transport, Bucky likes to manspread on busy subways and things get a little heated.





	1. Tony POV

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rudearrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudearrow/gifts).



> HI EVERYONE! THIS IS MY FIRST EVER COLLAB ? 
> 
> Wild!
> 
> So, it is with great pleasure that I bring you, the porniest thing I have ever written, and no one even gets naked!
> 
> Courtesy of my good friend Ru, who shared with us their experience of thirsting after a deliciously thick thigh on a crowded train, and we thought, _why not_?
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Kitteh, it was an absolute pleasure to write with you <3

Over the years Tony has learned that his worst ideas usually start in the same way.

 

Rhodey.

 

His best friend, though Tony's seriously considering downgrading him to “occasional drinking buddy” after this latest offence. Regardless of whether they're drunk or sober, Rhodey has a way of tricking Tony into doing the most ridiculous things. Like trying to snort wasabi (it can’t be  _ that hot _ ) or daring him to catch the damn  _ subway.  _ With  _ people.  _

 

You'd be forgiven for thinking he would  _ learn  _ from previous experience, being a genius billionaire and whatnot. Sitting on a smelly, noisy subway at 6:03am, Tony is forced to consider the rumours of his intelligence might be exaggerated.

 

The subway car is busy, with people sitting in every seat and others forced to stand in the aisles. The air smells like a chaotic mix of perfume, cologne and unwashed humanity. A businessman sits in the corner, a headset in one ear, having a loud conversation about ‘Jerry’ who apparently wore the same tie two days in a row. The  _ nerve.  _

 

Staring blankly across the aisle, Tony silently counts down the number of stops he has to make it through. It’s 6, which is exactly 6  _ too many.  _ His phone vibrates in his lap and he’s pathetically grateful for the distraction, until he opens the message and sees it’s from Happy.

 

“ _ A rare morning off.”  _ It says. There’s even a helpfully attached picture of Happy looking drowsy and content in bed, with a steaming cup of coffee just barely visible at the edge of the frame. Tony scowls at the screen, silently cycling through several different responses. He briefly considers calling Happy to adequately express his pique, but quickly dismisses the idea in favour of texting JARVIS, who really is the best accomplice for any revenge plot.

 

Thirty seconds later, his phone rings.

 

“Tony,” Pepper says, in the long suffering tones of someone well acquainted with Tony Stark Shenanigans™. “Why did we just buy millions of dollars in shares for a TV company?”

 

Tony thinks about lying, actually comes up with several  _ very good lies,  _ but he can almost hear Pepper’s heeled foot tapping and without his consent he finds the truth blurting out. “So I can make them cancel Happy’s show for a month?” 

 

“ _ Why _ , no, you know what, I don’t even want to know. Tony, you actual child.” The phone clicks off and Tony is left staring at it in silence, blinking. Honestly, it’s like Pepper thinks he might be  _ overreacting,  _ and she doesn’t even know what he’s getting revenge for!

 

_ Belay the cancellation, JARVIS, for now.  _ He texts JARVIS, though with a quiet smirk he also forwards a link to the TV company’s Twitter account for Happy. He’s sure Happy would love to know which company now owns his favourite show.

 

The subway car rattles to a slow stop at the next station and yet more people cram their way inside. The woman sitting next to Tony with an intermittently screaming baby gets off, though, so Tony’s counting it as a win. He enjoys the empty space next to him for about thirty seconds and then a man sits down, to Tony’s internal frustration. Tony busies himself fiddling with his phone and tries to ignore yet another person in his space, right up until a rock hard thigh presses lightly against his own leg.

 

_ Jesus.  _

 

Tony stares blankly down at his phone, but if someone put a gun to his head and asked what he was doing he wouldn’t be able to answer. His attention is completely and utterly diverted; he can feel the warmth of the other man’s skin, even through two layers of clothing. He also smells nice, something subtle and spicy that stands out from the chaotic mess around him. Tony risks a glance out the corner of his eye, just enough to see a chiselled jawline, cheekbones and hair Tony can easily picture wound around his hands. He’s rapidly reassessing his opinion on the subway. Of course, the guy also looks like someone pissed in his wheaties this morning, but even that isn’t enough to turn off Tony’s  _ very  _ interested dick.

 

Traitorous bastard that it is. 

 

_ Oh shit!  _ He’s pretty sure the guy caught him looking, which Tony would usually be all for but for some reason on  _ this particular day  _ makes him flush. Tony busies himself with his phone, flicks through to the most brainless game he can find and pretends to be extremely occupied with it. Hot Guy shifts a little, and where his thigh had been a light touch before, now it’s a firm press and Tony’s mouth might be watering a little. Thick, corded muscle and heat are the first things Tony registers, and then he considers why the guy might be man spreading to that degree and  _ christ almighty.  _

 

Tony’s brain blue screens for a moment, and the avatar on his phone game dies with a ‘meep’ and a comical explosion of colour. He zones out for a minute, his mind taking a gleeful trip through the gutter, and it’s only the subway car coming to a stop that shakes him out of his reverie. Tony blinks a little dazedly as the doors open and people start moving. A bent, shambling figure makes their way onto the train and Tony all but leaps up, in spite of the quiet whimper from his libido.

 

“Here, take my seat.” He offers, pasting on the patented charming Tony Stark smile and the elderly woman lights up.

 

“Oh, bless your heart, dear.” She shuffles over and plops down next to Hot Guy. She wriggles around for a few moments, pulls out some knitting and settles in. 

 

Leaving Tony standing awkwardly in the aisle. Right. He hovers for a moment, embarrassingly sure about what to do, and that’s  _ before  _ the cart starts moving. He makes a hurried grab for one of the handholds and turns slightly away, because if he stares at those thick thighs much longer…Well, his suit pants aren’t exactly  _ disguising.  _

 

Tony stares at the window in quiet disgust, immediately missing the spicy clove scent of his seat partner and that warm, solid press of muscle. The dark subway tunnel rushing by is a very poor substitute for Hot Guy. Tony comforts himself with imagining the epic Pepper-lecture if she knew he was thirsting over a guy he met on the subway; technically, he hasn’t even _ met  _ the guy, since he’s pretty sure actual words would have to be exchanged for that to count. The subway rocks back and forth, the motion seeming to pick up the faster the train goes; regular subway commuters move easily with the swaying, one hand on the rails and one holding their phones for the most part. Tony quickly discovers he has no such ability, wobbling like a newborn who hasn’t quite worked out how to walk. He grips the handrails for dear life, Hot Guy forgotten as he prays desperately for this interminable ride to  _ end  _ so he can get off the subway (hopefully with dignity in tact) and  _ never ever  _ catch it again.

 

And then the train curves around a bend, rattling and shaking, right as Tony adjusts his grip. There’s a weightless moment, where time seems to slow and Tony has just enough time to think ‘well, that was fucking stupid’ and then his legs go out from underneath him. He stumbles, almost catches a grip on a nearby pole but only really manages to slow his fall.

 

And that’s how Tony Stark, in view of probably 50 people, topples over and plops himself in a complete stranger’s lap on the subway.

 

Tony squeaks out an embarrassingly unmanly little sound as he finds himself cradled by the thighs he’d been drooling over not moments before and an equally firm arm that curves around his waist like it belongs. There’s a blazing hot palm pressed over his hip and Tony’s hard pressed not to groan out loud. Minus the subway and all the other people and this could be the start of any one of Tony’s fantasies. He looks up into clear grey eyes, warm with interest and finds an answering heat stirring at the base of his spine.

 

_ Well, hello sir, is that a cellphone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? _

 

He squirms a little in place and yes that is definitely Hot Guy Jr waving hello. 

 

“So… come here often?” Hot Guy is saying and Tony blinks uncomprehendingly for a moment, his brain stuck between  _ hot guy, words  _ and  _ holy shit, is he flirting? _

 

Eventually, he recovers his mental faculties from wherever they’d fucked off to. “I might start to, with such wonderful scenery.” Tony tries to find the suave, billionaire playboy facade he’s worn like a second skin for most of his life, but he’s pretty sure he sounds more akin to a teenage girl with a crush. “Actually, that’s a lie, hotness, I still hate the subway.” Tony confides after a brief pause and Hot Guy grins, sharp and amused.

 

“Aw, doll, I’m not worth it?” 

 

Tony snickers, finds himself leaning in to chase that wicked gleam in Hot Guy’s eyes. “Where do you get off?” He murmurs, just for the two of them to hear. A thumb presses lightly into his hip, nudging Tony closer.

 

“Actually, feeling like going off right now.” Hot Guy’s voice drops into a deep, spine melting purr. Tony groans a little, slides his hands up to broad, muscled shoulders. 

 

“I have a meeting in, oh, half an hour. I could be persuaded to skip it.” He offers, apropos of nothing. 

 

“Coffee, then?” Hot Guy responds, without missing a beat.

 

“Ugh,  _ yes.  _ I could kiss you.” Tony groans and inwardly shivers at the almost predatory light in Hot Guy’s eyes.

 

“I ain’t stoppin’ ya.” 

 

“What kind of man do you take me for?” Tony gasps in mock offence. “I don’t even know your name!”

 

“Hopefully one who’ll let me take him out,” Hot Guy grins and his nose brushes gently against Tony’s cheek when he leans in a little further. “I’m Bucky.”

 

“Oh, the things I could do with a name like that.” Tony wriggles out of Bucky’s lap (reluctantly) as the train comes to a smooth stop. He’s completely lost track of what station they’re at, but he suddenly finds the idea more than appealing.

 

Lost in New York with Bucky sounds like an adventure. The other man stands and he’s not just broad, he’s  _ tall.  _ Tony briefly considers being pissed at his own small stature, until his libido offers up some very important applications for their size difference. Bucky hums quietly and slides his hand into Tony’s with an almost shy quirk of the lips that Tony finds hopelessly endearing.

 

He’s definitely in trouble, and yet...Tony can’t find it in himself to mind. The train doors slide open and Tony steps out, hand in hand with Bucky.

 

Maybe he’ll send Rhodey a fruit basket...


	2. Bucky POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a barely there hint of pink on the cheek closest to Bucky and he licks his lips, a kitten like flutter of a tongue, and well, maybe Clint’s coffee isn’t the only thing to wake Bucky up, cause he’s fucking awake now, alright.
> 
> Once again, Bucky shifts in his goddamn seat. 
> 
> ~x~
> 
> In which Tony gets tricked into using public transport, Bucky likes to manspread on busy subways and things get a little heated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [ rudearrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudearrow/profile)
> 
> OH HELLO THERE FIRST COLLAB EVER???? 
> 
> I'm not gonna lie, this has to be the weirdest thing I have ever written - and I WROTE the adopted demons story! 
> 
> Ru's a thigh thirst inspiration, can't even hide that anymore XD Thank you darling for giving us a chance to go absolutely WILD. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys it as much as we enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Misty, darling, it has been aboslutely amazing to co-write <3

Bucky was  _ not  _ a morning person. 

 

Just ask Steve - they lived together long enough for him to attest to that. While generally a good type of fella, Bucky’s sullen, silent and radiating serious murder vibes in the mornings, until he gets his inhuman concoction of a coffee fix.

 

Thing is, the only person qualified to make a mug full of caffeinated poison is Clint, and today, Clint has taken a day off and Darcy, bless her soul, tries but is unable to recreate Clint’s dark magic. 

It makes human interaction a little bit tricky on the days when Clint is unavailable, or sick, or - on this particular day  - busy in some way that includes Nat and therefore gives Bucky no right to complain. One does  _ not _ complain about Nat-related things. 

 

Which is why Bucky plows his way through the increasing crowd towards the single empty seat at 6:10 am and people move out of his way like the Red Sea did for Moses. He shamelessly takes a seat, inwardly curses at the person who designed these tiny ass plastic chairs and fidgets restlessly for a couple of minutes. 

 

There might be  _ some _ truth to Steve’s jokes about him overcompensating for the loss of one arm with building muscle mass like there’s no tomorrow, but thing is - Bucky knows he’s built like a fucking wall. 

 

The fuckin’ subway seats? Not made for people like him and he does not have the patience for pleasantries and social graces, so he makes himself as comfortable as possible, pressing his leg against the guy in smart pants next to him. It’s not like Bucky can magically make himself smaller, anyway and Bucky Jr deserves breathing room. 

 

He takes a deep breath, tells himself that he only has to suffer being under caffeinated on a subway for 4 more stops, when he  _ feels _ someone’s eyes on him. His annoyance flares quick an bright and he looks up, and yeaaah, Bucky called it. The guy next to him isn’t fast enough to look away and Bucky catches a glimpse of his eyes. 

 

Huh. 

 

He never deemed himself a poetic soul - Steve’s got that covered enough for both of them, thank you very much - but holy fuck, the guy’s got eyes that would put fucking  _ Bambi  _ to shame. Those eyes awful writers spew shit about - how whiskey and gold they are or how worth it is getting lost in them. 

 

He looks away then, leans back in his own seat and picks up whatever he was doing on his phone. There’s a barely there hint of pink on the cheek closest to Bucky and he licks his lips, a kitten like flutter of a  tongue, and well, maybe Clint’s coffee isn’t the only thing to wake Bucky up, cause he’s fucking  _ awake _ now, alright. 

 

Once again, Bucky shifts in his goddamn seat. He tells himself it’s the plastic digging uncomfortably into the small of his back, nothing more, just plain ole’ fucking plastic and yet, the action causes him to press his leg against Smart Pants again. Not just an accidental brush, no. Full on press, knee to hip and Bucky faces reality; dammit, he’s gonna hafta apologize for that one. 

 

The guy  _ freezes _ for a second, so still Bucky can actually feel it and all thoughts of apologies fly out of his head. The guy’s looking at the screen of his phone where something bright and colorful is happening, but he looks shell-shocked and Bucky’s about to say something, cause maybe there’s something wrong going on in that head of his, trains are fucking tricky like that, when they reach the next station and the doors open. 

 

Smart Pants Guy is up in a flash, crooning sweetly to an old lady barely able to walk even before Bucky noticed her, and he gently guides her to his seat. She settles in, smelling faintly of lavender and moth balls, and it’s only when she pulls out her knitting set that Bucky looks away from her.

 

And promptly forgets how to breathe, cause if he thought Smart Pants’s eyes were lovely, then there are no words to describe that perfect curve of an ass.

 

And it’s right  _ there _ .

 

He’s suddenly wishing he could channel Steve’s abilities and paint it or sculp it  or sing a fucking ode to it, because sweet baby Jesus and all of the saints, that is one masterpiece just begging to be worshipped. He digs his fingers into his own thigh  _ hard _ , to ground himself and remind himself it is not polite to literally drool over complete strangers. 

 

He fails miserably when the guy shifts, the delicious swell of his ass tempting almost to the point where Bucky wants to reach out and  _ touch _ . He’s sure he could cup one whole cheek with his hand, press into the supple skin and leave marks. The guy’s a smooth olive color, gold and rich and Bucky’s damn certain he would bruise so prettily it’s almost impossible to ignore the way his cocks fills up. 

 

The guy wobbles as the car’s sway intensifies; it would look adorable if each shift wouldn’t pull the material taut over his ass. For a second there Bucky thinks of new born lambs, with their shaking legs. The guy loosens his grip in the exact moment the train enters the curved path towards the next station. Like a fucking slow motion video, Bucky watches the guy stumble, try desperately to grab onto another pole and before he can react the guy’s sprawled in his lap. Bucky’s hand somehow winds up curved around the sharp raise of his hip, pulling him close. 

 

He stares right up into wide blown eyes - and oh fuck, they’re even prettier up close - the look of the guy’s face pure shock and Bucky’s mind short-circuits cause damn, he fits  _ perfectly _ between Bucky’s thighs. 

 

His fingers tighten, he can feel the jut of the bone in the middle of his palm and that pink flush is back on the guy’s face, lips falling open on a shaky exhale. Bucky’s eyes snap to that mouth, registers the plumpness of the lower lip and then his brain gets with the fucking program. He  _ recognises  _ the guy.

 

He has a lapful of  _ Tony Stark. _

 

He should let go, help the man out, but all he can think of is the way they’re pressed close and how fucking warm the air is between them. 

 

“So… come here often?” He blurts like the maniac he feels like. 

 

It might be contagious though, because Stark looks up at him, blinks - fucking flutters those long lashes and Bucky dies a little bit inside - and when he speaks, he sounds as dazed and breathless as Bucky feels. 

 

“I might start to, with such wonderful scenery. ”  The sway of train causes Tony to literally squirm in Bucky’s lap and only the slight cough from the old lady stops Bucky from grinding up. 

 

She manages to make knitting sound furious and Bucky better get a fucking grip on his libido right now, because getting frisky on the subway with a (relative) stranger is highly inappropriate on the best of days and getting frisky with Tony Stark is … 

 

Well. 

 

Probably a very good idea, considering the molten hot look he’s currently receiving and the opinion the man has, but still, public subway. 

 

“Actually, that’s a lie, hotness, I still hate the subway.” Stark says after a moment of pause and he sounds so adorably confused and  _ offended _ that Bucky can’t be held responsible for his response. 

 

“Aw, doll, I’m not worth it?” He drawls, makes sure to keep up his most sultry smile and oh, the low, definitely private laugh he gets in response is a lovely sound. 

 

“Where do you get off?” Stark murmurs, those eyes darkening as he stares at Bucky and this is the God’s way of testing him, Bucky’s sure of it. Steve would probably be dying of a laughter induced asthma attack right now.

 

Like that’s ever going to stop him. 

 

He presses his thumb into the smooth fabric, rubs a little circle and the way Stark’s eyes flutter is a reward all on its own. And that’s  _ before  _ Stark moves that tiny, tiny bit closer.  

 

“Actually, feeling like going off right now.” 

 

Stark groans then laughs, a pretty sound that curls around Bucky’s bones. He somehow eases into Bucky’s hold, turns loose and his hands find their way to Bucky’s shoulders. Seemingly for purchase, but his hold is nothing but appreciative .

 

Stark’s smile is all cat like satisfaction as his fingers test the breadth of them, and it makes something thrilling and hot appear in the pit of his stomach. 

 

“I have a meeting in, oh, half an hour. I could be persuaded to skip it.” He sounds so delightfully coy, Bucky wants to keep him.

 

The train slows down, next station coming up soon and Bucky quickly tries to remember what are his options.

 

“Coffee, then?” Bucky says without missing a beat then and the groan Stark gives is fucking  _ indecent _ .

 

“Ugh, _ yes.  _ I could kiss you.”

 

Bucky grins at that, because yes, please, that mouth looks hot as sin and smooth as silk and Bucky wants to know if he tastes the same.

 

“I ain’t stoppin’ ya.” 

 

“What kind of man do you take me for?”  The gasp he gets is full of mock offense, the only thing missing is a hand to heart, but they’re currently occupied by mapping out the line of Bucky’s shoulders so that’s totally fine.  “I don’t even know your name!”

 

The guy’s like catnip, Bucky thinks, leaning in closer. ”Hopefully one who’ll let me take him out.” He leans close enough for his nose to brush against the apple of one cheek, the smell of cologne intense and inviting. “I’m Bucky.” 

 

“Oh, the things I could do with a name like that.” The way Stark wiggles out of his lap  _ almost  _ makes Bucky change his mind about that coffee, cause he feels the absence of that warm, perfectly sized body keenly. 

 

When Bucky stands, the look on Starks face is priceless. It look like he’s about to blow into a full on pout, but then his eyes rake over Bucky and Bucky can pinpoint the exact moment the bonuses of such a height difference register in that brilliant - legit, there are scientific and academic essays on the genius of Tony Stark - mind. 

 

Brilliant and deliciously dirty it seems. 

 

Stark moves toward the door and he looks so happily excited that Bucky feels something in his chest expand. Not thinking too much about it, he grabs his hand and Stark looks up at him, those pretty doe eyes bright because and for Bucky. 

 

He runs his thumb over protruding knuckles, gives Stark a smile and watches those eyes crinkle at the corners, reflecting the smile that’s on his lips. . 

 

The door slides open with a hiss and he lets himself be led outside; lets Tony Stark lead him towards something bright, new and exciting. 

 

And  _ oh, _ Bucky realizes with a warm kind of start. 

 

He’s looking forward to it. 

 


End file.
